


Tria Prima Arcana

by Witchly



Category: Ghost (Swedish Band), Priest (Swedish Band)
Genre: M/M, ghost (swedish band) - Freeform, ghost bc - Freeform, the band ghost - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-13 11:13:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10512615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witchly/pseuds/Witchly
Summary: A priest named Emeritus experiences bewildering yet seemingly familiar dreams, all in which take him into a new, dark world.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I thought it would be interesting to write a series for Priest! The fandom seems quite small at the moment, so perhaps why not add to it with fan-made story, right? I think after the Twitter salt went down with the Puppet Master (roasting the new Air Ghoul and then calling Papa a 'greed-ridden pope'), I've been heavily inspired to write a piece of both characters. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> [HIATUS]

** Chapter 1 **

**1972**

 

            _Shhhh…_

 

            My body unwound to the soothing sound, and yet, I shuddered as the softness of its whirling vibrations, sending shivers down my spine.

            _Come closer to me and be truly free…_

            Hauntingly familiar eyes, they were; so vaguely remembered, as they held me in such a passionate gaze. Brooding, dark, and lifelessly they were. Yet, they held something as faint as hellish fury and wrath, prepared to lash out when triggered at the rightful moment. I could feel the heat of my lust engulf me in flames, cruelly reminding me who would earn such coveted pleasure through a series of helpless pleading, to which I was extremely unaccustomed to. Though my body, in response to the thick, powerful energy that surged through me, abandoned what seemed to be reality, and forced me to see the truth.

            A thick sheet of sweat coated my body, feeling the dampness as gentle cool air blew from the crack under my window. Savoring the little bit of fresh air granted from the autumn night, I let out gasps, fighting to calm an overheated body. Dehydration seemed to be my largest concern, and to quench the agonizing thirst required me to leave the hot covers that draped over me. They have failed in providing me warmth, yet instead, have left me feeling the equivalent of actual suffocation. Pushing them off my burning body, I swallowed thickly, feeling the slickness of arousal, and the faint scent of sex permeate my bedroom. Slowly but surely, I had been able to leave my bed, with the little energy I had. My bones felt a kind of heaviness, a slight bit of fatigue, as if I’ve put in an enormous amount of work into something. However, I usually do not really felt tired too often; I would consider myself a man who is well rested in the night. Lately, however, I have had the misfortune of being given such unusual dreams. Every night for the past two weeks, it is either the same or similar themed dreams. And such dreams spark a libido I have fought my damnedest to bury.

           To control it was maddening.

           To satisfy it was unthinkable, at least in my position.

           Looking to the clock on my wall, I released a sigh. Almost 4 AM, the time I usually rose for the day. Being a priest was not an easy job, though it seemed rewarding. Also, even though the religion has not spiritually fulfilled me, personally, I still found content in gifting others with advice when they visited me for confession. I was at the fresh, youthful age of 25, and had worked for the church for as long as I could remember. The story of my childhood, wondered by many, is a tale for another time, perhaps.

           Rubbing my eyes, I suddenly felt a paralyzing force take me over. Was it the devil himself coming to take me away? Was I dying? My mouth formed and I had spoken, yet I could not hear the sound escape my dry lips. My hand wavered as it reached down to the crucifix on my rosary, fighting to bring it to my heart. In times of anxiety or pain, it was only a natural reaction to the negativity. My other hand shakily reached over and grasped the small silver bell that sat on my nightstand. Giving it a gentle ring, I tried to call out for someone to come to my room. I had only prayed a nun passing by my quarters would hear me. Not too long after, I heard footsteps.

           After a few knocks on the door, my voice cracked out as I replied with, “Come in—”

           She rushed in, an alarmed look on her face upon seeing me. “Father Emeritus! You look as if you’ve just stood out in the rain for hours, oh— look at you! You look so flushed, have you had another nightmare?”

           I gave a gentle nod her direction. “Y-yes, w-well no, um, I need… water please… my throat is dry.”

           “That is no good, you must speak with a psychologist about this… we are all worried about you!” The sister pursed her lips and left the room briefly, returning with the glass of water I had requested.

           “There is no need to talk to the psychologist.” I replied, adding a thank you as I took the glass from her to drink. The coolness of it had put out whatever flames that once burned within me. “I think I just need to reflect on things more. It’s not exactly… erm… terrifying or horrible, just strange. I’m sure I’ll get to the bottom of it. Perhaps I’m stressed about something.” I knew this was not the case, yet I had not desired to spread some sort of unneeded concern amongst the church.

            “If you say so, I’ll be praying for you.” She smiled weakly, bowing her head.

             For a moment, I had cringed, and something negative had shot through my mind.

_Utterly useless! Prayer is merely a waste of time!_

            And it was not my voice, not my truest mind speaking the truth. At least, that is how it felt.

            “Do you need anything else, Father? Will you be alright?”

             I blinked, taken back to reality. I realized I had not said anything back, leaving an awkward silence between us. I had bitten my lip hard, shyly nodding.

            “No thank you, Sister. I appreciate you getting me water. Go on now, get some rest. It is the time I should be rising anyhow.” I sent her a reassuring smile, though she did not return it.

             She left my room and I sighed. My fingers ran through my sweaty black tresses, pushing my stray hairs back from my eyes.

             My eyes floated up to the image of me staring at myself, distressed and pale in the mirror. It set off an eerie vibe, it did not help the room was still rather dark. I had not really known what was up with me. Where did these strange dreams and feelings originate from? Nothing I could think of could fill the blanks and satisfy my curiosity enough. Again, I took a few moments to pray, before starting my day.

 

\----------------

      

            After a day ruled by paperwork upon paperwork and exhausting, pointless errands ran throughout the day, I had just finished completing my final task for the night. It was late, actually far past the time I usually would retire to bed. Yet getting work out of the way was my primary goal of the entire week in order for me to enjoy my weekends, which were often less busy aside from mass. Snow blanketed the streets and buildings in the town. It was quiet, definitely to my liking. It only ever got this quiet once in a blue moon, and only ever being in this part of the town. Then I wondered to myself, wouldn’t I be lucky enough to reach my favorite bookstore before it closed?

           Not even ten minutes away from where I once stood, I reached the bookstore, and found that the inside was dark. The sign on the door had read in large letters, “CLOSED”. Perhaps, I was not that lucky after all. Getting my hopes up was a mistake, was it not? I would just have to read the books in my library, and despite my deep content for getting lost in the pages of a lovely book, the very thought depressed me at the moment, oddly enough. I _did_ crave to feel the pages of brand new, crisp novel. Reading seemed to be more reliant of a religion for me than Catholicism itself. It gave me better peace; a place where I could escape to when chaos conquered. So with a sigh, I pivoted round, heading in the direction of my home.

           Yet my eye caught something.

           Two ravens at my feet, croaking at one another before looking at me.

           “Hello there.” I tilted my head, observing as one of them mimicked me in gesture. “I haven’t any food for you, if that is what you’re expecting from me.”

           The one quizzically stared at me and croaked again before glancing at its partner, fleeing from my presence. They took off with great speed, because is the next few moments, they were two black dots in my vision, disappearing into the dark of night. Next to the little footprints they left behind was a small, black rectangular-shaped wooden box. Peculiar, I thought to myself, that I had not remembered seeing that before. I picked it up and studied it. Fortunately, it did not require any sort of key to open it. Flipping up silver latch with ease, I inspected inside, to find a little black pouch to match. However, there was a strange symbol etched into the material in silver.

           In that moment, a pang of anxiety rose in my chest, and I was uncertain of why. I decided not to open it until I returned home within the walls of a holy place.


	2. Chapter 2

** Chapter 2  **

 

          Reluctant, I suppose, was a great adjective to describe how I felt in such a moment. There I sat, crisscross on my bed. My eyes were set on the mysterious black pouch I had not dared to open until I reached my home. I had done the sign of the cross, kissing my thumb afterwards, ensuring myself that there would be the strength and protection of God with me in this bizarre discovery. To think it strange, yes, it was quite strange, though the pouch did not give off a rather welcoming aura in my defense. My body straightened up from its hunched over position and I sharply inhaled, slowly outstretching a hand to caress the lovely velvet that felt smooth against my fingers tips. It sent a jolt of warmth through my body, creating some kind of buzzing electricity in me. Not that this was only peculiar, it was more so in such an event, because I could not identify if the warm shocking feeling was a good or bad thing, even though it felt pleasant for the moment. Could it have been sinfully pleasant? Could a spark of pleasure compare to any future ones? Time would tell, I thought to myself.

          Swallowing down the fear that welled up in my throat, with one hand I held the bag, and with the other, let my fingers unloosen the strings that once tightly secured the bag. Reaching inside, there was, to just _my content_ , yet, _another_ box. Before I could even click my tongue at the absurdity, I noticed the unusual art on the box. It was black, the same symbol on it as the pouch, with other intricate, tiny details surrounding. Above it, in the center shown, were the words, _Tria Prima Tarot Deck_ , which immediately resonated in me the obvious fact of what is inside to be tarot cards. Generally, I had not really too much of an opinion on tarot cards. I was taught they were an object of Satan, and along with my lack of education on them and their true purpose, I did not further myself to indulge in learning or using them. In the moment, however, I believed the Holy Father had wanted me to stumble upon them for a reason, even if it was not something I was accustomed to in my daily life.

          Was there a message hiding within that I needed to decipher?

          Carefully, I opened the tarot box, observing as a bunch of cards poured out quickly. The first touch upon them gave me a similar sensation to how I felt before when touching the pouch. A flash of events I could never recall before that moment rushed through my mind, both chilling me to the bone, and granting me a mix of ecstasy all in those few moments. Gasping, I moved my hands away once it was all over, seeing the hairs on my arm stick up. All I could of, far more than curiosity now, is what the hell that was!

          As a nervous habit, I chewed at my lip, biting at the skin on my bottom. After I felt a bit more level headed, I took on cleaning them up again, the second touch mildly stinging my feelings in the oddest way, yet nothing like the first time. I tried to think back, on what I did know, and of my common sense of how tarot cards were used. Shuffling them back into one, neat pile, I set in front of me. I selected the first card, placing it in front of me.

          My eyes widened at the familiarity.

          In a blur of a vision I had, I remembered the flash of memories, and my dreams, piecing them together of what fragments I had floating about. It had made sense so far! This was the man! He wore a spikey mask, with holes for eyes and his mouth, and two little holes for the nose. He wore a black suit, along with a white clerical collar; an outfit for a priest such as I. Though I did not remember exactly what he was doing in my mind, I finally remembered him, or who he was for a fraction of the whole.

           The card depicted him in the center, holding a transparent pyramid, with ‘I’, at the very top to mark it as the first card, where the bottom of it was titled, _The Puppet Master_. The name too was far too familiar to pass off as just probably hearing it from somewhere – I _knew_ who this was, somehow.

          I gently rubbed my rosary beads, taking the next card on top, laying it out beside the first one. Now, this one, I remember as well, but all so vaguely. There was a man clad in a black suit, face hidden in a black bird mask. He wore black fingerless gloves and was tall. In the card, the picture depicted him holding a pyramid as well, like the Puppet Master, and the name titled under it was _Sulphur_ , along with the symbol for it on each side of him, with ‘II’, at the top to be let known that was the second. I pulled another from the deck off of the top, to see another that was similar to the second. It had the ‘III’, to signify it being the third card, with a man also wearing a black bird mask and suit to match. This one was named, _Solar/Earth_ , and he too seemed rather familiar. He was depicted of holding the world, inside of a pyramid. It was interesting, though nonetheless, eerie. I could not trust looking further into them. Perhaps it was a test of God instead and I had failed somehow. Whatever it was, it would no longer be my problem, or so I hoped.

          After studying the cards for a few minutes, I tiredly blinked, glancing up at my clock.

          12:30 AM.

          I was truly was an absolute beast to myself.

          Gathering the cards together, I placed them back into their box, shut it, slipped it into the pouch, and put it in its final box, closing the latch. Once more, I did the sign of the cross, but with my rosary, and kissed it. Then, I took the unnerving box and shoved it into my neglected, bottom drawer of my desk. Tomorrow, I would rid of it. I could not bother with it any longer. Though it did not seem dangerous, God knew if it was endangering me already, I could not risk it. I shut the drawer and prepared for bed.

 

\----------------

 

**Current Time**

            _There is no way to quell my desire…_

Master?

            _Shhhh…._

My eyes fluttered open to sound of a church bell going off in the distance, as if beckoning me. The scent of frankincense fills my nostrils. As well, I could feel the crisp, cool air, blow against my body. Blinking awake, I noticed my surroundings were quite different. Everything was not what it once was.

            I was not at home.

            Everything was dark and bleak and I appeared to have woken up in a raggedy, worn out, dusty old bed. The pictures hung upon the wall were lopsided and broken, clashing with the yellow, timeworn peeling wallpaper, seeing a few roaches crawling about. Absolutely mortifying! I shuddered leaping from the bed, and dusted myself off. Where was I at? Why was it so dark? Perplexity had become my mind and all I could do is pray. I lowered my hand down to the crucifix hanging on my rosary, only for me to no longer feel it on my being.

            I gasped.

            It was gone!

            I was trapped in a cocoon of anxiety, itching to break free before the torturous emotion would let me be a free man. Searching around, I noticed a light source peeking through the cracks of the door of the room, another reason why I was not surrounded in complete darkness. Immediately in alert, I scrambled over to the door and opened it, watching the door fall down once I twisted the knob. My nerves jumped upon hearing it fall so hard and soundly. Dust spread about, throwing me into a coughing fit. My eyes rose up, introducing me to the next room, which was in complete destruction.

            What had happened to everything?

            Walking over broken items and mounds of other debris of old furniture and pieces of the room, I made my way toward the light from outside. Part of the room was broken off, thus, leaving the rest of the outside able to see into the room. An entire town before my eyes, in complete ruins, seemingly scarce of any people, abandoned even; just as the house I stood in. How did I get here? All these questions reeled in my mind, fixing me to become a madman. The sound of church bells still rung in the distance, every moment listening became more familiar to me. My chest heaved and I held my mind as felt faint take me over. I caught myself on the wall, my vision faltering, replaced with vivid images of the tarot cards and the supposed memories that once flashed in my mind, along with the dreams.

             Oh, how they haunted me so!

            Oh, how they taunted me so!

            What devil could have possibly wanted to drive me so mad, I wondered, if not the devil, himself.

            A chorus soon chimed along to the church bell. The sweet voices, where did they come from?

            Soon, my vision returned to its state of norm, and I blinked, rubbing my eyes of the blurriness. There, I saw myself in the cracked mirror of the broken wall. Each step was tremendously difficult to take, though I was able. My hand reached the dusty, wooden vanity, fighting to remain steady on my feet, the other hand caressing over my features. My heart felt as if it were pumping inside of my mouth. No fear could ever compare to this moment, where my fingers traced over lines of aged skin embedded within my face, feeling myself mentally breakdown from such shock. I have become old – and though my hair old had a few grey streaks here and there, the elder part of me mainly appeared upon my features, each and every wrinkle. Where was my youth? How was I no longer 25 years old after the moment I drifted into a world of slumber?

            Was I to be punished for my sins, whatever they were to be?

            Had my Lord forsaken me?

            Had he bestowed upon me such cruelty?

            Looking around, I noticed another door, and I knocked the unstable thing down, covering my eyes and mouth from any sudden dust. There, introduced to me, was a staircase that led me to the first story. The whole front of the house was broken off as well. I could feel the wind blow calmly against my face and I with the courage I could gather from the moment, I took all I could, and stepped down each step gradually with ease, hoping it would not fall. Each creak of the step would deter me from proceeding, even when one of the steps chipped off and cracked, leaving a rather large gaping hole of darkness within it. Yet in the heat of the moment, I was also willing to flee where I was, regardless of where I would end up. The place altogether was a living nightmare; a nightmare in which I craved an end to.

            I almost fell into another hole I could not see at first near the last few steps, creating a fleeting panic that rose in my chest. I involuntarily latched onto the banister, watching at the pieces of stair fell through the unstable step’s hole. Since I was approximately at the bottom of the steps, I jumped down the other side, landing on the floor with simplicity. The good thing about the experience was that, despite however old I was, I still possessed the necessary strength and agility needed to move around well in action.

            Finally, I had arrived to the outside.

            There were hardly signs of life anywhere.

            Was there even an escape; a person to confide in me their similar experience in such a situation?

            Was this a merely a nightmare?

            All I could follow was the strong scent of incense permeating through the atmosphere and the sound of music coming from a place, somewhere.

            My mind had gone blank from that moment, so I cannot recall whatever happened next. I was in some kind of daze, entranced by the music, as if it was a lullaby, and I was once again a child being put to sleep. I had only snapped from my daze and back to whatever reality I was in once I reached a large, gothic church, similar to the one I once worked in. I heard thunder crack and I glanced up at the dark, night sky, hoping it would not storm. Wincing at another roar of thunder, I took hold on the door, trying to open it, knocking harshly at the door repeatedly, hoping for some form of life to come to me.

            “Please! Someone answer!” I called out to the insiders in distress.

            After a minute of calling for someone, I was rewarded with an answer. The door had unlocked and there appeared a taller man clad in a dark suit and black bird mask. The man from the tarot and visions! Was he a raven, I wondered. Could he understand me? Did he think me mad? Would he aid me in finding my way back to wherever I needed to be? Could he explain where I was and how I am the way I am? If I remembered correctly, thinking back, his name was Sulphur, like the tarot. If not, then he could have been Solar/Earth. All I knew as of then was that there was no true distinction between the masked men. I shifted where I stood, locking eyes with him.

            “Papa Emeritus III, you’ve arrived. My Master has been awaiting your coming. Please, come in.”

            Master? Was it The Puppet Master?

            “P-Papa? I mean, yes, thank you… are you… Sulphur?” I inquired, stepping inside the church.

            Yes, it was true I was the third of all my brothers with the name Emeritus, yet I did not remember ever being called Papa up until this point in time. I would have been a bit more than puzzled as to how he knew me if I had not remembered the dreams and flashes of visions. He closed the door behind me and silently guided me. The eagerness to ask so much was tempting, but I did not push it. If this Puppet Master had been waiting for my coming, then he would hold the answers to everything, would that not be correct?

            The interior of the church was as captivating as the exterior of it. It was large, spacious, and gloomier than any church I had ever seen or been inside of. Despite the slight bit of unnerving energy I received, I could not deny its dark beauty. Extreme dread filled me suddenly; however, as my mind flashed with more visions the more I traversed through the familiar halls. Seeing the statues of Baphomet and dark tapestries, along with large macabre, erotic paintings of the 16th, 17th, and 18th centuries, with themes of hell, death, and other sacrilegious things, hung on the walls completely rattled my nerves and mind. What was I remembering? Why did I itch to forget? I was in an unholy place! Why did I follow Sulphur? And where was the other bird man?

            I had only hoped that God did not leave me be as I walked within the shadows.

            At long last, which seemed like ages, we reached a door at the end of the hall where, perhaps, I would not only discover answers, but also meet my fate.


	3. Chapter 3

** Chapter 3 **

         

          “Master, I have brought Papa Emeritus III.” Sulphur folded his arms behind his back, speaking to him through the door.

            So this was it. I would finally receive answers to everything, and hopefully, an end to my internal torture. I took a deep breath and exhaled the negative energy that had been building up within me up until that point.

            “Come in, Sulphur, Emeritus.”

            My ears perked up at the smooth, sensual tone. It had a very familiar ring. I could not quite get it loud enough, yet, I understood what he had said, in its low volume. Sulphur twisted the knob of the door and pushed it open, letting me walk inside. Then, he bowed to Puppet Master before shut the door behind me, leaving me alone with the Puppet Master. Faced with a large black leather chair, I blinked curiously, observing as he swiveled around to face me. His face was much clearer in person! I felt those same memories from before flood my mind and heat grew on my cheeks. Chewing at my lip, I backed against the door. His dark lips twisted into some kind of wicked smirk, emerald eyes piercing mine like darts.

            “There isn’t a need to be afraid of me, Emeritus… assuming by the expression upon your features, you _do_ remember something. I suppose my sending you out messages from another point in time truly did work for you.” He cooed, rising to his feet.

            The Puppet Master ambled over to me, inches away from my body, his face, a bit close to mine.

            His voice, I was immediately enraptured with lustful thoughts and feelings, similar to the feelings I have had recently with the dreams and memories, along with the strange eventful happening with the tarot. My breath caught in my throat as our eyes locked, making me swallow thickly. Such a passionate gaze – I cursed myself! I could not hold it for long. Each moment I grew more embarrassed. I ripped away from his stare, placing my attention to the wall, littered with a plethora of leather collars. The heat from my cheeks had spread and I could feel it course through every vein in my body.

            “What are you talking about? I would like an answer to all of this. All I remember are bits and pieces, simple fragments. I trust you understand very well what I’m talking about.” I furrowed my brows, feeling his fingertips graze my jaw. I could not take it, his touch was overwhelming.

            “Most certainly, my pet…” He chuckled, though I did not understand what was humorous of what I had said in that moment. “I will make sure you are reminded well of everything you need to know. After all, that was my initial plan.”

            He moved back to his seat, leg resting upon the other. He patted his lap and gestured for me to sit. I was still not over his touch and the fact that he desired for my intimacy, I could not comprehend what was going on. Though, with the feeling of helplessness, and the idea of just abiding to him so I would not upset him, I did as he had told me, and sauntered over to have a seat. He made sure I was facing him, his fingers grazing my sides. This made my whole body stiffen and I could not help but shiver. He cupped my face with both of his hands, pressing his forehead against mine, grinning sinisterly. What was this? Why was I not resisting him? It was obvious he was some kind of crazed, lecherous man! It was a sin, as well, as not only being another man, but a priest, it was highly forbidden of me to take on any kind of romantic or sexual role with anyone. Yet I remained, on his lap, vulnerable, all to him and my desire for answers, and the end of my mental torture.

            “Close your eyes.” He demanded softly in a whisper.

            That I did.

            And in the next moment, a flood of memories rushed through me, like a wave in a range of emotions crashing into me at once.

            There, I remembered it all.

            Alas, my answers!

            Though, I wish I had appreciated my ignorance, hence the term _ignorance is bliss_ , for I held knowledge I was prepared for. Oh, gracious me, of the Kingdom of Heaven and Hell, of God and Satan, of all things good and evil… I was a devil on Earth!

            It had all made sense.

            “You are, the dark pope, leader of the black church, all things satanic, the third of your brothers to carry on… you are, Papa Emeritus III. And I know you remember this,” He pulled away, making me open my eyes, “which also means you know the sins you’ve committed against your fellow church; your most loyal servants… you know, _you’ve fucked up_.” He purred into my ear.

            I gasped, feeling his hot breath tickling the shell of my ear, and even more at the sensation of his tongue brush against the lobe. Holding back a groan in response to his taunt, my fingers gripped at the sides of the chair. I knew everything now. He had no right disrespecting me this way! _I_ was the pope, _his leader_. So why did he think he could just speak to me any kind of way, touch me any way he pleased, tease me… however he desired? What I did for the church was all for the church, even if I did profit from it or not. Finance is what keeps the church alive and running aside from the ones who attended mass and such; there was no problem in replacing my servants with new ones. After all, did it matter? As clergy members, they did not really benefit much before in the first place, no more than I did, so what was the point of giving any more to them? Though the religion was well alive, it was small, and needed to flourish. I was only doing what I could and what I thought necessary and best, even if it seemed we were getting to our highest mark in history. I would be the best of my brothers and this I had sworn. A traitor, was I?

            Then so be it.

            “You have no idea what you’re on about.” I grumbled.

            “Oh, but I do… you, my greedy little bastard,” he growled, “I will teach a valuable lesson. You will realize your place, as a human you are. You may be my pope, but you will forever remain beneath me as my pet, do you understand that?”

            His voice was rather cold yet seductive at this point in time. My body tensed as his teeth bit at my ear, gritting against my flesh. Arousal had risen within me like flames of growing fire; a fire of many passions in which I’ve shared with many women and men throughout the years. This was a fire that spread wildly throughout my lower regions…. Thrilling, yet most bothersome! I was still not convinced. I did not believe in his power nor would I give into him so easily. A bluffer always had his way which is why I played his game well so far. Temptation was a tactic I was immune to unless I chose to pursue it. Never did I fall to my knees to it; never did I succumb or plead for pleasure. I ruled with an iron fist and he would not take my pride from me.

            “I have a task for you, Emeritus, my sweet.” The Puppet Master sang whilst grasping my throbbing bulge through the tight fabric of my trousers. “I will send you back to your original time, of 1972. You will have a second chance at repenting for your sins against the church and this time you will have your memories with you. You will relive throughout the years and graduate to pope status in the black church after participating in your daily Roman Catholic associations as a priest in your old church. Go ahead and repeat your mistakes, the ones you _know_ you can avoid. It will all end the same and you will be severely punished by the Unholy Council. But you’re a smart boy; I have my full faith in you. I’ll even stop in and visit you time and time again; just because I know I can’t resist such a sexy man as yourself.”

            A very audible groan, much to my own displeasure, escaped me. I hissed at the pain as he squeezed me with his strong hand. I could feel myself aching for him, growing harder, the desire, somehow, becoming too much to bear. And what was this, a second chance? I did not want to face the council and be removed of my position, or worse. Though, anything else was completely out of question. I knew the rules and despite my disagreement of negative judgement toward my part of my decision with the ghouls, I still would need to go through with it, and make things “right”. What would I learn in this? Would it be a waste of time?

            “Release me.” I _refused_ him the satisfaction of calling him Master. “Now.”

            “And who put you above me?” He hissed, thrusting his hand inside my trousers, pumping my shaft with a single hand. “You know, as well I, _you_ covet me in such a way. Remember the dreams; remember the emotions you felt in them… I’ll be sure to give you a lovely little taste of what you deserve.”

            What bliss! In such a position too – he planned this, that bastard, I thought to myself in immense frustration, bucking my hips forward. My skin felt liked needles pricking every bit of it and my back arched absentmindedly, giving him more access. What was this? Did I have no control? Pleasure had conquered all my senses and has become my lead. I was teased… oh, how he was so correct with his words, and how furious he was to be. I wished nothing more than to wipe the irritating, smug smile from his lips I yearned to kiss. I despised it! Why did I want him? Of all things in this world, he truly infuriated me the most.

            He did NOT hold the power.

I did.

            But as he massaged me so, I felt myself slipping from the grip of my pride, somehow. I swallowed thickly as he pulled his hand out of my trousers, placing it on my thigh. I glanced down as my member twitched, looking back to him, seeing his laugh darkly at my face in mockery. Did he think teasing me was funny? Who did he think he was? I was _not_ needy for him and I did not need him. I knew well what he wanted and I was not going to give it to him for the life of me.

            If he so craved it, he would have to other ways.

            And I always enjoyed a little challenge, but he truly was a pain in the ass.

            “As requested…” The Puppet Master winked. “I finally let go of you. I shall send you back and you shall be 25 again. Enjoy it while you can.”

            Shakily, I stood up to my feet as he gestured me to get off. I shifted in place and pulled my shirt over my erection in embarrassment. What would this mean now? Would he be observing me like a guinea pig in some lab? And if he were to, how was it possible? There were still so many things I craved to know despite being replenished of my memories once more. Before I could have said anything, in a strange mist, my vision went dark for a moment before returning to its state of norm once more.

            And before I knew it, I was in my bedroom, back home in 1972

            I touched my face and glanced into the mirror, seeing a youthful man with black hair and malachite eyes staring back at me. It was still around the time I had retired to bed that night I found the tarot.

            And now, I knew everything was real.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps a bit rushed? Probably. But I promise, I will not leave you hanging. There will be more of this story to come!

** Chapter 4**

 

            “Father Emeritus, you haven’t touched your eggs.”

            I glanced up, snapped out of a strange daze. The entire time I had spaced out, staring holes into my now cold cup of coffee. I had not realized my mind was so occupied up until this point. It almost seemed I lost control of it and something else would take over. It was a sister who had commented on my lack of attention toward my breakfast that morning. I sent a reassuring smile her way.

            “I just haven’t felt very hungry lately – I’ve never been a huge eater to begin with anyhow.” I explained, downing the rest of the coffee. That was the only thing I ever wanted to finish anyway, it provided me the sufficient energy that any ounce of sleep I received could not give me. “Please do not be concerned – I just have a lot on my mind.”

            “Shall I ring the psychologist?” Another sister suggested.

            “No, thank you.” I smiled bitterly, as I had already told them before I did not want to talk to one.

            “Is there anything you need? Anything we can do at all?” The nuns all wore a genuine look of sympathy, seeing in my state how I looked exhausted.

            “Just some space, I ask.” I smiled wistfully, standing up from the table. “Thank you.”

            Before they could say anymore, I removed myself from the dining quarters, and sighed. I loosened my collar and leaned against the wall once I reached the hallway. Could I not have felt any more suffocated than I already did? I had even remembered there was mass to conduct that night – lovely. My finger slid through my already disheveled mane, my eyes setting onto the statue of the Mother Mary next to a painting of The Last Supper hung upon the opposite wall. Her eyes seemed to stare at me, almost in warning, knowing of my truest self. It unnerved me greatly and all I could do was flee to my bedroom.  There was silence, as well as sacred solitude – and in this, I found fleeting solace. I shut the door, immediately throwing myself to my sweet bed, sinking into crumpled sheets. I did not want this great pressure weighing upon me. It was still unbelievable to me that the Puppet Master could hold something like this over me, as if I were his pawn… as if I were to be his _puppet_.

            Nonsense!

            I held the strings of my being and willed it to do what I desired. He had no right threatening me. Sure, he held power, but I held something greater. Yet then I wondered, why, for the love of Lucifer, did I suffer with this small anxiety of losing my position clinging to me like a leech, draining me of my essence? One moment it left, and then I would overthink again, only for it to return once more! The dreams, they still haunted, and the horrid _cravings_ – I could not bear it, as it came upon me tenfold than last. My libido was at the level of teenage boy’s. It was utterly humiliating, even for a passionate man like me; the fact that I was being teased was overwhelming. It’s been two years since we last had met and I have fallen deep into a hole that is lust. Oh, did I briefly resolve my urges on my own, touching myself when thoughts floated to him, all in within the privacy of my own room. I was mortified by actions and the situation alone. Yet did I beg for him? Never! I found it extremely pathetic of me to even consider doing such a thing. But everything maddened me. And everything felt was hopeless.

            I shot from my bed and stood to my feet, making my way over to the desk.

             I have not touched the box in over two years.

            Bending down, I pulled open the drawer and reached down to grab it. I then shut the drawer and sauntered over to my bed, almost immediately opening it in a hurry. My body was desperate but the mind was demanding.

              _I_ would get what I want.

            Pulling out the tarot cards out from the box, I shuffled through until I found the Puppet Master’s card. Touching it, the familiar warm sensation flown through me, and I tossed it onto the bed in front of me. I gawked at the card and furrowed my brows in deep concentration. Focusing my energy on it, I shut my eyes, trying to channel him through my mind, rather than visually. Though I did not sense a connection, no sensation came to me in any form that would let me know I am being at the very least, acknowledged.

            Nothing.

            “Get the _fuck_ in here.” I growled.

            Nothing.

            “I want answers.”

            Nothing.

            “ANYTHING.”

            Nothing.

            I grumbled lowly to myself at this point. “I know you’re listening, jackass.”

            Nothing.

            I released a sigh. Immediately, a sensation took hold of me, and in my mind I heard, in a tiny, quiet voice, as smooth as satin,

            “So demanding, Emeritus… you really haven’t learned your place, have you?”

            A jolt shot through my body, of both shock and pleasure, and I gasped, feeling the currents of electricity in large waves flow in me. My body could not comprehend the happening, neither could my mind. My eyes, once closed, fluttered open, and immediately, I saw the Puppet Master at the edge of my bed. He wore a smirk, and as far as I could tell, he had an eyebrow raised at me. A shudder passed through me and the sensation came to an end.

            “This is your fault – the reason why I’ve suffered for two years.” My eyes narrowed at him.

            “I do not deny the accusation, as it is more truth than anything,” his lips pursed, “but it is _your_ fault that you are in this situation. Technically, you have brought this upon yourself.”

            “Do not,” my blood boiled, “you have no right… doing these things to me.”

            “Darling, really? _Doing these things_? Just admit it, you and I both know I hold the power here, only one of us is not facing up to the truth. If you truly held power over me, you would be above my teasing. You wouldn’t pay any mind to it. Yet here you are, like a helpless puppy, begging but in the form of demand. Do you really believe that it isn’t obvious?” He tilted his head at me. “You’re in denial. This is why your kingdom fell in the end. You should be thanking me for helping.”

            I was speechless and tried to swallow the knot that welled up in my throat.

            “You know I’m right.”

            No, he was not. I would not let him have that satisfaction.

            “H-helping  me?” My voice wavered. “Don’t you dare consider this help, you know this is for your sick benefit, and yours alone.”

            “Well, if I let you continue on your daily life, you would end up in the future the same way you did before – ending up replaced, money-hungry, with shame to your name. Yet I cannot deny that, unlike you, this _does_ bring me benefit in the matter.” He smiled, running his fingers over the cherry wood bed frame.

            “ _Twisted_ benefits.” I remarked, placing emphasis on twisted.

            “Yes, if you see it as such.” He chuckled, gradually walking over to my side of the bed.

            “Stay back.” I held a hand up.

            “So first you summon me, hear what you don’t like, and have the nerve to tell me to step back?” He crooned. “You definitely have not learned anything.”

            “You keep saying things like that.” I stated observingly, moving back, though to my misfortune, ended up against the wall. “What could you possibly teach me?”

            “I am so glad you asked! I can give you a _minor_ demonstration of what I’m capable of.” The Puppet Master’s eyes lowered onto me, trailing up and down my body. “I could teach you so much.”

            I pressed my lips together, unsure of what to say, keeping myself from retorting.

            It did not last long though.

            “Fucking show me then, _Master_.”

            And there it was; my retort.

            He grinned. In the next moment, my body went stiff and some kind of invisible force kept me in place, wrists raised above my head. I was restrained. The Puppet Master crawled onto my bed, slowly, like a predator. His hand parted my legs and all I could do was squirm, feeling the rise of electricity return to me in waves of pleasure. There, I saw my erection, highly noticeable within the tight confines of my trousers. His eyes locked with mine malevolently. I could not handle it and I knew that he knew that too. As much as I craved to rip away, I could not. He took his eyes off of me and focused his attention to my crotch, leaning down. His mouth enveloped my bulge through the dark, thin fabric. My body was weak and my mouth gaped open, letting out a string of groans. He sucked against it, as rough as possible, his nails grazing my thighs to add to the sweet sensation.

            “ _M-Master_ , don’t fucking tease me.”

            With that, I felt him sink his teeth into me, prompting me to yelp. Both pain and pleasure in a mix dragged out another groan from my lips.

            “You don’t hold the power here…” He mumbled, though loud enough for me to hear. “…you have no say in whether or not I should being teasing. Thus, you telling me to stop teasing can only prove my point further.”

            He yanked down my trousers, then my underwear to follow.

            “Still mouthy?” He added.

            “Still a jackass?” I hissed.

            He chuckled, giving light kisses upon my shaft. The Puppet Master dragged his tongue across my tip, earning from me a whine. He was playing a dangerous game. And god was I on the edge, holding back from pleading.

            “That pride and sharp tongue of yours will be your downfall~” The man sang seductively, making me observe his torture.

            My face felt flushed. I threw my head back in ecstasy as my Master took me into his mouth, bobbing his head back and forth, letting his teeth graze at different point. My back arched in complete approval with the new, lovely feeling. No longer could I suppress the words that ached to be spoken, as the more I resisted, the more Master would push further to get me to break. It humiliating, ultimately, and I admit I could not resist him.

            Then and there, I had broken.

            “ _Please_ ~” It was the first time I had begged him, no matter how hard I clung to my pride. Yet I would not let this one defeat be the end of the entire battle. “ _Master_ ~”

            I could feel him smile deviously at this, sucking me faster. My legs were weakening and going numb, feeling like jelly at his touch. With my hands finally free to move around, my nails dug into his mask and my hips thrusted against his mouth. It was such bliss, such heaven, but complete sin I had no problem pursing. Upon hearing him gag, I squealed such sounds I never thought would ever pass my lips or would ever be possible. I was aching, throbbing for release, needy for this pleasure I had been deprived of for so long. It did not help when his tongue flickered over my tip, for I fell into my sweetest agony yet. At this point, I was leaking pre cum, fervently waiting.

            “I-I need to release,” I croaked, “My body can’t take it.”

            The Puppet Master only glanced at me for a moment, pulling me out of his mouth.

            “I’m going to teach you a little lesson of patience.” He licked my shaft with a wicked smile.

            Shuddering, I grasped the sheets, moaning his name under my breath.

            “Why must you torture me so? I have waited two long years!” I whined out.

            He said nothing but pumped me with a free hand as his other pinned my wrists above my head once more. I grumbled under my breath, feeling myself ache more and more, moving closer to my orgasm. My heart was racing and a thin layer of sweat covered my forehead. Oh, how I wished to show him! Give him a taste of his own medicine!

            And eventually, I had reached my orgasm. His lips enveloped me once more, taking me in whole, making me cry out as the limits of my pleasure were stretched and pushed.

            “ _Master~_ ” I cried out, tears pricking the corners of my eyes.

            A warm sensation took over and in that moment, I had released into his mouth. All the tension and build up finally had left me in sweet relief. Master looked me straight in the eyes, swallowing every bit of me, licking his lips, smeared with the dark purple lipstick that also stained my shaft. My face could not help but become extremely hot.

            What had I just done?


End file.
